Growing Up Goren
by La Red
Summary: Similarity breeds contempt and children. Meet Kathryn, Lindsay, and Robert Goren. The children of our favorite detectives. Join them as they manage their own unique lives while trying to plan a birthday party for their mother. Yeah, my summary's horrible.
1. Robby

Disclaimer: I'm serious, man, they ain't mine! What will it take for you to believe me?

A/N: This is my very first Criminal Intent piece, so bare with me. I'm new to the show, so I might not have the characters down yet. If there's anybody that would like to beta this and school be on the characters and such, please feel more than free to drop me an note at the e-mail address listed in my profile. I really do love criticism. I will not die if you don't think this is perfect. Trust me, it helps. Anyway, I apologize for this essay of an author's note.

* * *

**Growing Up Goren**

**Robby**

"I don't know what you've been smoking, but remind me not to try it."

"What were you thinking, anyway, or did you even bother to think?"

I stuffed another egg roll in my mouth, took another swig of my beer, and rolled my eyes at my two older sisters. My eldest sister, Kate, invited Lindsay and I to her place to munch on some Chinese take-out and for some good conversation. As usual, the conversation took a turn towards my relationship with my long time girlfriend. Lindsay and Kate didn't approve of Miranda and they always made a point of telling me. Kate found her to be too brash while Lindsay just passed her off as oblivious. So now I sat, watching them both have cows, after I smugly told them that Miranda would be their brash, oblivious sister in law.

My sisters and I are pretty close. I think it's because both of our parent's were cops and we were left alone so much that we couldn't help but bond. I'm a lot younger than they are, seven years behind Kate and six behind Lindsay, but we just hit it off. I can count on Kate to be gentle with me and Lindsay's there to keep me in check with her sharp tongue and clear insights. We always get together at Kate's place on Friday nights. It's been our tradition since Kate moved out after she graduated from high school.

"Wipe that grin off your face you little asshole," Lindsay glared at me over the rim of her beer bottle. She brushed a stray curl away from her eye. "Why'd you go and do this?"

"Down girl," I laughed and downed the last of my beer. I let out a satisfied "ahh" and leaned back in my seat. I smiled sheepishly into my sister's dark brown eyes. "What I can I say? I love her."

"Robby," Kate said gently. "You're twenty, you're not even out of college, and you haven't had a chance to enjoy life yet. Are you sure you want to tie yourself down so soon?"

"Weren't you the one that married at twenty-four?" I folded my arms and watched her.

"That's different and you know it," she frowned. She snatched my empty beer bottle from the kitchen table and tossed it in the trash. "I was pregnant."

"How do you know Miranda isn't?"

"Because you value your life," Lindsay laughed in Kate's direction. The two exchanged smiles. "After Mom and Dad got finished ripping you a new asshole, Katie and I would get our licks in."

"And speaking of our lovely parents," Kate ruffled my hair before plopping back into her chair. "They know yet?"

"No, I was planning on telling them at Mom's birthday party."

"What has college life done to you, little brother?" Lindsay shook her head and let out a whistling breath. "That's about the stupidest thing you could do."

"Yeah? I thought that thing I did..."

"When you used Mom's vibrator to mix brownies?" Lindsay shrugged and took another sip of her beer. "All right not as stupid as that."

"Hey, I was eight. How was I supposed to know what it was?"

"Uh...maybe because it was shaped like a penis..."

"Maybe she got it from her bachelorette party," I defended between laughs.

"Yeah, you know Mom, always keeping her kitchen supplies in the drawer under her underwear..."

"Okay, okay," I raise both of my hands in an effort to shut her up. "You win, okay? Seriously, why shouldn't I tell them there?"

"They. Don't. Like. Her."

"They do too like her Lindsay!"

"Robert, you know I love you, but they can't stand your girlfriend," Kate patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Don't feel bad. Dad couldn't stand the sight of Kevin for nearly two years!"

"Yeah, that's because Kevin knocked up one of his little girls."

"If Daddy Dearest couldn't stand Kevin, the Doctor, how the hell is Mom going to take you marrying Miranda the bimbo?"

"She's no bimbo! She may be a little slow..."

"Bimbo! BJ! Bimbo!"

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" I cut my eyes at Lindsay, who just returned my look with a snort.

"Oh come on, _Robby_, we've been calling you Bobby Junior since before you could pee straight."

"Yeah, but I can pee straight now, so stop calling me that."

"You so can't pee straight!"

Lindsay and I both eyed Kate strangely. Lindsay coughed and I avoided her eyes.

"On one of the rare occasions that I was engaged in a conversation with your lady friend, she just happened to share with me that you leave...uhh...leave drops..."

"You and my girlfriend actually had a conversation about the way I urinate?"

"I was just trying to make her feel comfortable."

"Yeah, so," Lindsay sucked in her breath and then stood up from the table. She started for the fridge. "You guys up for more beer?"

"I'm straight," Kate held up her hand to fend off the bottle Lindsay was pointing in her direction. "I've gotta go to work bright and early and I still have to go grab Lillian from Kevin's parent's place. Trust me, arriving there drunk as a skunk would give his mother yet another reason to pry her precious son away from me."

"Mrs. Donavan still the Ambassador of Assholelia?"

"I don't think she'll ever give up that title Linds," Kate grabbed the hair tie that was on her wrist and then reached up to pull her hair into a ponytail. "No matter what I do, that woman just continues to treat me like crap."

"Sick Lindsay on her," I said, reaching for a cold egg roll.

"That won't help anything," Kate sighed.

"I'm not doing time because Kate has a problem with her husband's overbearing mother!"

"Who ask anything about time Linds?"

"Kate, you and I both know that by the end of the evening I'd be dangling the woman by her back fat over the edge of her balcony. Mom and Dad might have connections, but I don't think they could get me off the hook for murder."

"God damn," Kate grumbled when she heard her cell phone ring and vibrate on the kitchen counter. Snatching up her phone, she flipped open the flap. "Speak of the devil, it's Dad."

"Oh joy," Lindsay groaned. "What does he want?"

"Hey Daddy! Yeah they're here. Oh nothing, we're just having a few beers and shooting the breeze. What's up? You want to talk to Robby? Dad, what prevented you from calling my house phone? Yeah, all right. Junior it's for you."

"Hey Dad," I said after taking the phone from Kate. Both of my sisters were watching me intensely, eavesdropping--or attempting to."

"_Holding your own with the girls?"_

"Trying to," I flashed my sisters a dimpled smile. Lindsay snorts. Kate shakes her head. "What's going on?"

"_I need you to stop by after your sisters release you?"_

"I guess I could stop by on my way home. Is there something wrong?

"_Your mother..."_

"What happened?"

"_I know Lindsay and Kate are listening..."_

They were of course. Lindsay was watching me with her hand propped up in her hands. Her curly golden brown hair was fanned over her arms and shoulders, strands of it nearly landing in her box of chow main. She was focusing on my eyes, trying to poke through my purposely-vague responses for some hints on what was going on. Kate just sat with her head cocked to the side, not staring hard, but still focused. She was half-busy putting her unruly mass golden brown curls in a ponytail for the second time and half watching me.

"Uh-huh."

"_I need your help with something. I would tell you but Linds and Kate would torture you until you gave it up."_

"Give me some credit Dad..."

"_And whose daughter's are they?"_

"Anyway, I'll see you in about thirty," No sooner did I hang up the phone, Lindsay was hovering over my chair hissing at me to spill. "I could have sworn he asked to speak to Robby..."

"Actually he asked to speak to BJ," Kate held up her hand in an effort to silence me. "Spill, little brother."

"Have you taken time to consider that it might not be any of your business?"

"Have you taken time to consider the notion of my minutes my business?"

"Oh grow up, will you? If Dad wanted you guys to know he would've told you. Besides, he knows the both of you well enough to know that as soon he told me, you'd manipulate into telling you."

"Fine then," Kate shoved my head and walked into the living room. "Next time you come over here you'll be drinking grape juice."

"What? Why?"

"Because, my dear baby brother, you're twenty years old! I don't want to get in trouble..."

"Well on that note," I grinned and smacked the table. "I'm outta here."

* * *

"Where's Mom?" I ask as soon as Dad opens the door.

"Out with Mara."

I shuddered at the thought of Mara Phillips. Imagine, if you will, a fire hydrant. Now put a black football helmet on top of it. Then wrap the whole thing in a pastel jogging suite. She looks like a cross between Snow White and one of seven dwarfs. She and my mother met when Mom joined Vice. Mara worked as a server at the Italian restaurant Mom frequented and for some odd reason the two hit it off. Mom hooked Mara up with my uncle David and even after those two broke up, Mara still hung around. I could picture the two of them now sprawled out over Mara's couch watching action movies and munching on popcorn.

I grab a beer out of the fridge and sit down in the living room where Dad's watching Court TV. He immediately turned off the TV when I plopped down on the couch.

"Put that back in the fridge BJ," Dad eyed the beer bottle in my hand. "You're not twenty-one."

"Aww come on..."

"Robert."

"Okay, okay," I sit the bottle down on the glass coffee table and then crash against the pillows. "So, what's so important that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

"Your...uh...your mother's birthday's in two weeks and I need your help."

"With what?"

"I need you to write a song about her."

I've been singing since I was twelve, and while Dad comes to my shows, he's never really showed this must interest. Dad's the customary father when it comes to my singing. Pride shines in his eyes when I go on stage, he smiles when I sing, and stands up to applaud when I'm finished. He takes me to eat after every performance, envelopes me in a hug, and then goes about his merry way. Dad has asked me to bring my career into our relationship. I don't rather to be afraid or excited.

"Are you trying to get me to help you woo my mother?"

He just blinks.

"I guess not. What do you want it to be about? Do you want something people can step to? A ballad?"

"Something like this."

He pulls himself from the couch and stares over to his freakishly organized music collection. All of the CD cases are in alphabetical order, by release date, and in some case lightest to darkest. One of the golden rules of the Goren household is ever remove one of Bobby Goren's CDs if you can't return it to the exact spot where you got it from. If you break such a rule you will be forced to endure one of his grueling lectures on clean as you go and completing one task before you start another. Me being me, I managed to learn that lesson by experience--on numerous occasions.

"One of my favorite pieces," he said.

Maybe it's the way you listen when I ramble

Maybe it's way you help when I take more than I can handle

Or could it be the way you stand behind me when I take risks

No, it's that you're willing to listen to me cuss and vent

I don't think I can summarize what we have into just a sentence

I've tried but it runs on until it's endless

I just can't seem to categorize

That feeling I get when I look into your eyes

Or the way you smile when I hug you

I'm not doing it justice when I say I love you

Ain't no words to describe it, In French or English

The only way I know how to explain it

It goes just a little something like this...

I only found one word the seemed to meet

My criteria, I wasn't sure but I just had to conceit

To this word, it just reminded me so much of you and me

You and I

Can't you see

Every time I think of you I feel complete...

My voice halted abruptly and I found my Dad holding the pause button the remote. My mouth was gapping open. I knew Dad had seen me perform, but I didn't know he actually listened to it.

"You..you like it?"

"Of course I do," he looks hurt for a minute, like I was supposed to know that he cared. "What made you think I didn't?"

"I.."

"Because I never say it," he interrupts.

"Yeah."

"Well, Robby..."

A polyphonic version of Parliament's Flashlight marked the ringing of my cell phone. I reached to silence it, but Dad gives my shoulder a squeeze and heads into the kitchen. I glance at the digital clock on the television screen. It's approaching eleven and without looking at the Caller ID, I know it's Miranda. Her photo flashing on my screen confirms my suspicion.

"Hey, Hun? What's up?"

"Where are you?" she whines into the phone. I can picture her leaning on our counter in our kitchen, running her fingers though her long, brown hair. Her full bottom lip protruding and her hand on her hip. "It's getting late? I tried Kate's place a little while ago and she said you left for your parent's house."

"Wait? " My body jerked forward. I can feel the anger pushing at my temples. "You called my sister?"

"Yeah?" she answered warily. "Is that a problem."

"No, except for the fact that I'm an adult. You know my cell phone number for everything else, Miranda, why didn't you just call me?"

"I called to speak to you, she let on that you left."

"Hey," I said gently. "I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"Let yourself in when you come home," she said coldly.

"Miranda," I shut my phone and slammed it down on the table. "Fuck!"

"Woman troubles?" Dad asks from the threshold. He's holding two glasses of what looks like Coke.

"More like temper troubles," I relieve him of my class when he hits down and take a long sip. It's actually root beer. "I just bit Miranda's head off and spit it out."

"What happened?"

"She called Kate's place to ask about me and I assumed she was calling to interrogate my sister about why I violated curfew. I don't know why I responded like that..."

"Probably because she does it a lot and you just figured she was doing it again."

"Why does she act like that all time?"

"Probably because she's afraid you'll leave. How's her relationship with her father?"

I downed the last of my soda. "Dad, no."

"What?"

"Don't go tapping into my girlfriend's mind."

"You asked."

"I meant in general! Look, it's getting late and I have classes in the morning. I'll call the guys and see what we can piece together of Mom's song. Kiss Mom for me."

"Please don't tell Kathryn and Lindsay about this," he said, handing me my coat. "They'll just tell your mother."

"Like Mom can't coax information out of me," I shake my coat on and pat his shoulders. "Night Dad."

On the way home I thought of my relationship with my father. When I was a little boy I was fascinated by him. Wherever he'd go, I was always toddling behind him. Dad always treated me like glass, like if he made one wrong move I'd crumble into tiny pieces. He indulged me most of the time. He allowed me to come on errands with him, like to the grocery store or to pick up the mail. I relished those times, but nothing compared to those rare occasions when he took me to the precinct with him to pick up files. I loved the place. He'd sit me on top of his desk, ruffle my hair, and search for the things he needed. Sometimes, when Mom wasn't there, he rummage through her desk looking for things. After he found what he needed, he'd stick the files under one arm, and scoop me up with the other. Then we'd go to the burger joint around the corner for a huge all American lunch and just talk. I smile and pull out my key chain. There in one of plastic photo holders is a picture of me and Dad sitting on his desk. I'm grinning from ear to ear, holding his badge and smiling widely. I loved my Dad, I still do, but it bothers me that we'll never be that close again.

* * *

"How nice of you to join me," Miranda barked as soon as I shut the front door and flipped on the light switch.

"Look, I'm really sorry about snapping at you, it's just that I thought you…"

"Thought what, Robby? That was playing mother and calling your playmates to ask why you hadn't come home?"

"Wait a second! I know you're not going to sit there and pretend like you don't call my sisters, my friends, hell my _parents _to grill them about my whereabouts! I _know _that."

"Well forgive me for giving a damn about the man I love! My bad!"

"Miranda, I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I know your father…he skipped out on you when you were a kid, all right? I just want you to know that I'm not him. I'd never do that to you.

She's quiet for a minute. Her back is to me and judging by the soft sobs she lets escape from her lips, she's crying. I make my way over towards her, nearly tripping over her running shoes along the way. Just as I'm about to reach for her, she whips around violently.

"Get away from me!"

"What? I…"

"Get away from me," she repeated, only this time she didn't yell. "As a matter-of-fact, get the hell out of my house. Get your shit and go!"

"Wait? What? You can't be serious?"

"I'm serious as a heart attack! You can come back in the morning, but I really can't stand to be near you."

"Where am I supposed to go at midnight?"

"Sounds like a personal problem to me. You can bed down with one of your sisters, hell you can bed down with the bums at Saint Vincent's! You can go wherever you please, just get the hell out of here."

"You know, if this is what marriage to you's going to be like, maybe I made a mistake."

"Yeah, well, you could be right."

I guess the Goren insight didn't work so well this time. I sigh and start down the hallway back to my car. Thank God Mom and Dad kept my old room intact.

* * *

A/N: I caught tons of mistakes so I corrected them...  



	2. Lindsay

A/N: I just want to thank everybody for their kind reviews. I sent all y'all e-mails, I hope you got them. I was so worried that people wouldn't like this because it was different. Hey, you know people from the Bay Area, we always do things little different! Anyway, thank you so much for the support. Again, though, if anybody is out of character or anything goes wrong, let me know. I'll holla!

-Keak

* * *

**Lindsay**

"Oh, _god_, Lindsay!"

Judah sighed one last time in my ear and then crashed against the pillows. Our lovemaking had been fierce, urgent, and powerful--to him. I checked the digital alarm clock on my nightstand. It was midnight, ten minutes had past since he felt the need to waste my time. Then again I only have myself to blame for this. If I had just come out and told him he was the size of a Vienna Sausage, he probably wouldn't be in my bed, breathing his hot breath into the corner of my eye, asking me if it was good. I blame women for men who think they're bigger than they are. If some woman had have just shut Judah down when he was in high school, he probably wouldn't be so haughty about his performance

"Lindsay," he cooed. He reached out and started toying with one of my curls. "You were so beautiful."

Judah isn't an ugly man. His hair is a dirty blonde and his eyes are a Caribbean green. He's a creamy tan color, built, and he has a huge warm smile. He listens to me when I talk, something most of the guys I know don't do. He doesn't tell me how hot I am, but he dwells on that fact that he thinks I'm beautiful. Some nights I can actually lie in bed with him and not end up on my back with him panting breathlessly on top of me. Sometimes he grabs my hand when we're walking down the street and fingers it softly. His only problem is that he's overconfident in the bedroom.

"Thank you," I kiss the hand he has on my stomach and relax against him.

"I love you," he says. His voice is husky in the darkness.

I suck in my breath and I'm quite sure he can feel my muscles tighten against his chest. I feel a deep connection to Judah. I feel safe when I'm around him. I feel appreciated, desirable, and gorgeous. Despite all of that I think love is not only a big word, but an even bigger step--especially for me.

He releases me so that he's only laying beside me. He then supports his weight on his elbow and leans over to brush my hair from my damp face. He kisses me, his touch tender with love. I swallow hard.

"Is it possible," he laughs softly. "Lindsay Deanna Goren…gasps…speechless?"

"I…"

"Ssh," he places a finger on my lips. "It's okay, you don't need to say anything. Go to sleep."

I do something that I don't normally do: obey.

When I wake up in the morning I find Judah gone and a cup of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter. Mostly cream and loads of sugar, just how I like it. Out of fear of being late for the millionth time this week, I guzzle down the hot liquid and throw my clothes on. The sun's barley up, but I have to beat the breakfast crowd. I'm a chef at Cluveau's, a trendy Cajun restaurant in Manhattan. People come there to hear soft jazz in the mornings while they eat. When I'm not being barked at by my boss, Cluveau's has a very comforting aura. When I'm on break, I just sit at one of the back tables and read while the soft Alto Sax wails.

I fell in love with food when I went to UC Berkeley. I'd actually gone for women's studies, but my roommate quickly gave me a push in the right direction. Christine was Creole from Chicago. Her parents relocated from New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina ravaged the city. She may have been born and raised in the Midwest, but you wouldn't know by listening to her. She spoke Creole fluently and even when she spoke English, she spoke with a gumbo mumble that was hard for people to understand. I met Christine in the student union towards the end of my freshman year. Her nose was in Howard's Zinn's People's History of the United States and she was clutching a bottle of ice cold Spirit. Her feet were plopped up on the table and she was slouched way down in her chair.

"Good book," I said as soon as I sat down. Most of the tables were full, so I just sat across from her. "Shone a new light on American history, didn't it? My Dad had me reading it when I was twelve, but I stopped…"

"I wouldn't know," She interrupted. She peered up from her book. She looked me up and down. "Since you came over here running off at the mouth, I haven't had time to really form my opinion."

I was taken aback at first. I was just trying to be polite and strike up a conversation about a good book. Then I became overjoyed. My whole life I'd been the smartass of the group. My siblings and my father had adapted to my sarcasm and I'd inherited it from my mother. People usually tended to shy away from me because I was too blunt . I always had something to say or I was just another wiseass. This girl, however, managed to catch me off guard and I liked that.

"Lindsay Goren," I stuck my hand across the table.

"Christine LeFabre," she shook my hand. She cocked her head sideways and smiled at me. "I can tell we're a lot alike."

"Yeah? How?"

"If we weren't, you would've run clear 'cross this room to get away from me."

We became fast friends. She'd hang out in my dorm room and we'd listen to music and talk. Sometimes we'd actually get some studying done, but usually we just talked. I was never really a trusting person, especially when I was younger. I trusted my family, but outsiders had to jump through hoops in order for me to let them in. That usually resulted in me being by myself at times. Yet, I felt like I'd known Christine forever. She got my jokes, accepted my wit, and had comebacks all her on. She was the sister I wanted Kate to be.

After freshman year, we both decided we'd get an apartment together. I was working at a bookstore and my parents were sending money, so I had enough for a room and then some. Christine's parents didn't approve of her college choice, they wanted her to go to a historical black college, so they rarely sent her money if they sent anything at all. Luckily for her she was working part-time and had managed to get some scholarships and grants. Between us, we had enough for a small two bedroom in Oakland, about 20 minutes away from the campus by public transportation.

The day Christine made gumbo was the day I left Betty Friedan for a frying pan. I'd always had a soft spot for cooking. When I was a kid I'd help my Dad out in the kitchen. He'd let me chop up onions or vegetables. If I got really lucky he'd let me season things. When my parents got called in for a case, I was always the one slaving over the stove. I loved to experiment with new seasoning blends. I created marinades out of everyday things like canned pineapples and Worcestershire sauce. My experiments went over well with Kate and Robby. They even convinced my parents to let me cook dinner for the family some nights. I always knew I had a talent for cooking, but when I saw Christine prepare the Gumbo, I learned that cooking was an art.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" she looked down at the mixture she was moving around in the skillet.

"This?"

"No, that," I rolled my eyes and pointed at the mixture.

"The rue for the gumbo."

"Gumbo? What the hell is that?"

"You haven't had Gumbo before? You don't know what you've been missing!"

"If that's all it is," I cast my eyes on the golden brown stuff she was sloshing about the skillet. "I'm glad I missed it."

"No, you fool, this is just the base. I'll throw in some crab, hot sausage, rice, shrimp. and some okra. Imagine a big seafood stew and you've got gumbo."

The gumbo took about three hours to make. I sat curled up on the couch watching. She was so precise, timing everything and cutting things just so. Occasionally I'd walk into the kitchen and stick my nose in the pots. I tried to dip a spoon in, but Christine always managed to swat me away.

I don't know how to describe it, but everything clicked the moment I started eating. The gumbo was zesty, but it wasn't too spicy. It had a sweet taste, but the kick at the end gave it its real flavor. It wasn't the food that got my attention, it was the how much fun Christine had making it. She put on some old school Funk while she cooked. She'd slid about the kitchen, doing the electric slide and the cabbage patch. I was having fun doing woman's studies, but I starting thinking about how great I felt when I was cooking. I could express myself the way I wanted to through my seasonings. I could build bridges with food. Living in Berkeley I saw white kids eating sushi, Chinese people owning soulfood places, black kids guzzling El Salvadorian food, Latinos eating at Indian restaurants. I didn't expect to be nominated for a Nobel Peace prize because I could I make a mean steak, but food brings people together.

I dropped out of UC Berkeley, much to my parent's dismay, my sophomore year and enrolled in California School of Culinary Arts. I struggled a little, I had no idea there were so many rules and regulations. At first I was adamantly opposed to all the rules, but after almost being booted twice, I learned to bite my tongue.

I graduated at twenty-two and came home to New York shortly after. Christine followed me and got a job at a women's magazine. They gave her a column and she was having the time of her life. She was the one who got me the job at Cluveau's. A couple of her parent's friends knew Lissette Cluveau and Christine asked them to put in some good words for me. Christine and I still keep itn touch. We don't get to hang out as much because she always up to her ass in work and I'm always tired. She comes by the restaurant every now and then, eats a little something, and then goes on with her life. I'll always be grateful to her for steering me in the right direction.

* * *

"_Goren_, how nice of _you_ to finally show up! What were you waiting for, an invitation from the all mighty _himself_?"

Okay, I may not be grateful to her for steering me towards Lissette. Traffic sucked--majority. I knew she was going to flap her jaws until she had an asthma attack, but that doesn't mean I wanted to hear it. Lissette has movie star looks. Unfortunately for her, that movie star happens to be Danny Devito. The woman has more facial hair than my little brother. Cheated by either genetics or fate, Lissette is set on making everybody else's life a living hell.

"You know me, can't move without notification from the Lord!"

"Don't get _smart_ with me _Goren_," she raised a pudgy finger to my face. "I can _replace_ you! _Don't_ you ever _forget_ that!"

Lissette deposited the glass of wine she was holding on the marble counter and then twiddles her fat fingers under the running tap water. Lissette always has a glass of wine before we open. She insists it calms her down, I insist that it turns her into a fire breathing bitch.

"_Honestly_ Lindsay," she says, flinging a meaty arm in the air, "you can't _possibly_ think that _you_ can continue talking to _me_ in this _way_!" (Lissette has a tendency to _speak_ in _italics_). "You're a talented girl, very talented, but you can be easily replaced. I built this place, Lindsay, from the ground up. There are tons of chefs like you!"

"Don't write out a check that your ass can't cash, Lissette," I chuckled while washing my hands. "You and I both know that if you could replace me, I would be flipping gourmet burgers at McDonalds."

"_Keep_ campaigning for _this_ pink slip and you just might _win_! Lindsay _Goren_, you're too _much_ for your own good--as well as your_ pocket book_."

I'd just gone on lunch break when I got the call. Mom was coming down because according to her we needed to have a chat. I know it's got something to do with her birthday and the call Robby got last night. My precious baby brother didn't give me shit, which totally isn't normal, but Mom has no way of knowing that. She knows that Kate and I can extract any and everything from our baby brother, so she thinks I know something. Unfortunately for her, I know nothing.

"Hey Z, your Mom's out front!"

I look up from the book to find Marcos, one of the busboys, leaning over the table in the break room watching me. If Marcos wasn't Robby's age, I'd take him in the bathroom and relieve my sexual distress. He's cute, not overly attractive. His eyes are black like limo tint, he can see out but others can't see in. He wears his shoulder length hair in a ponytail and he has a light stubble. Very sexy, extremely sexy. Down Linds, down. Anyway, Marcos started calling me "Z" after hearing Lissette shout my name so often. Lindsay, get it, Lind-Z.

"Oh, yeah, thanks."

"You look hot," he says and then adds on a wink.

"I feel hot," I wipe the sweat from my brow. Sitting in a break room close to a kitchen while contemplating the many different ways of seducing a busboy can do that to a woman.

He knows that I know that's not what he meant, but he lets it go.

Mom's standing in front of the entrance. It's a nice day, so she doesn't feel the need to come in. Mom can't stand Lissette any more than I can, so she doesn't come inside unless she has to. Mom's going to be sixty-five in a month, but she doesn't look it. She looks a good ten years younger then she is. Give or take a few winkles she could be in her early fifties. I was lucky enough to inherit that gene from her. I've never looked my age. In fact when I first met Judah, he asked to see my ID before we went any further. When I complained Mom just told me to suck it up.

"Either look seventeen at twenty-five or have your skin hanging off your bones when you're my age," she'd said.

* * *

"Took you long enough," she said when I flung open the front doors. It's kind of funny how my mother has to stand on her toes to hug me.

"Nice to see you too, Mommy," I laughed and smiled. "Wanna grab some tea or something?"

"Sure, I liked that cafe that we went to last time. Hey, that guy that greeted me at the door, what's his name?" she asked once we started walking.

"Who? Marcos?"

"Dark hair and eyes, kinda short and lanky?"

"Yeah, that's him. Why?"

"He's cute!"

"Mom! He's Robby's age, that's gross!"

"Oh please," she slapped my arm playfully. "I'm old not blind. Besides, it's not like I wanted to marry him, I was just looking."

"Yeah, well, you have a husband."

"Speaking of my husband," she looked up at me before swinging open the door of Muddy Waters. "What's he got up his sleeve?"

"Huh?"

"Huh?" she narrowed her eyes. "Don't give me that! I know he called Robby last night."

"How'd you know?"

"Robby showed up last night, apparently Miranda had her ass on her shoulders. Your father told me he invited Robby over."

"Really? About what?" I asked after we took a table near the window.

"Didn't ask. It was late and you know better than anyone that I don't appreciate being woken up."

She was right, I did know. Not only did I inherit her looks, but I inherited her morning temper. I remember the first time Judah slept over. He was so cheerful, so alert, and ready to take on the world. He woke me up with a big smile and a cheery good morning. I wanted to beat him over the head with the cup of coffee he was holding. Instead I settled for yelling at him and then covering my face with my pillow. I ended up apologizing to him over dinner. He doesn't wake me up anymore, that's for sure.

"Did he go to school this morning? He tends to over sleep when he's home, ya know?

"Yeah I know," she nodded. "Now stop changing the subject and tell me what your father had to say to my son."

"Robby didn't tell me."

"Bull, you could talk your brother into selling me if you wanted to. What did he say Lindsay?"

"Mother, I swear, I really don't know! Ask Kate, he wouldn't tell her anything either."

"_Lindsay_."

"_Mother_. Here's what went down last night. Kate, Robby, and I were having some beers and Robby told us about," I stopped. My brother would kill me, that is if he could, if I told Mom about his proposal to Miranda. "Robby told us about some teacher that's been giving him shit and then Kate gets a call on her cell. It's Daddy and he asks to speak to BJ so Kate hands him the phone. I watch him and Kate pretends she's not watching him, while they talk, but Robby just shuts us out with his eyes. We tried! Hell Kate even threatens to make him drink grape juice while he watches us drink beer, but he keeps his lips sealed. Whatever it is, it's important, and Robby's honoring Dad's confidence."

"You're sure you know nothing?"

"Positive, I swear," I laugh a little and then sigh. My conversation with Judah pops into my mind.

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing I can't handle."

"Lindsay, I'm your mother. You look like me."

"I look like you, and?"

"And, I make that same face when something's eating me. So I'll ask you again, something wrong?"

"Judah told me he loved me last night while we were in bed."

"That's great," when she sees the look on my face she says, "or not. What's so bad about an intelligent, good looking, man tell you that he loves you?"

"I'm not sure if I love him back."

"What's not to love?"

"I...I just don't know...know...about love. It just seems so overrated. I feel safe with Judah. He makes me feel special, you know, important? The way he looks at me, I've never been looked at like that before. I'm feel connected to him, I've got feelings for him, but I don't know if I love him."

"One monkey doesn't stop a show, kid."

"Mom, I was a kid then, that has nothing to do with this."

"Like or not, Lindsay, it does. That boy's been dead for almost ten years and you still haven't buried him."

"Mother..."

"Lindsay, take it from me, okay? I know what it's like to lose somebody you love and I know what it's like to think you'll never love somebody else again, but you have to trust somebody sometime."

"I...I gotta...I gotta go," I pull myself out of the chair. I can feel the tears stinging at my eyes, and I'm not one to turn on the waterworks in a public arena. "I'll call you if I learn anything else, okay? Ask Kate when you..you...get a chance."

Mom's been married to Dad too long, she's starting to be to god damn insightful. Lissette's gonna have a field day when she sees tears stains on my cheeks. Great, thanks Mom.

* * *

A/N: Now for Kathryn "Kate" Goren. Once again, thanks a lot for the kind reviews! 

1 Love,

Keak


	3. Kathryn

Disclaimer: Guess what, I've got some news for you! Spill it, I don't have all day! You know those characters from that show Law and Order CI, right? As much as you talk about them, if I don't know who they are, something wrong with me! Yeah, well, _girl_, guess what I _heard_! What did you, _hear_? You know that author, Keak Da Sneak, right? Girl, yes! You know that… Do I know what? You know she does not own the characters? Aww, man, you woke me up to tell me that? Moral of the story is: Do not sue me, okie dokie?

A/N: This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write. I had so many ideas running through my head, and I wrote about six of them, but this really stuck out to me. I had a hard time with Kate, because I don't know if what happened is plausible. Her parents are her parents and I really don't know if it's believable. When you all are finished reading, would you please let me know what you _honestly _thought? Was it believable, does it work? I'm not asking for a book report, but I just want to know what folks thought.

Thanks everybody for the kind reviews and support, I really appreciate it.

-Keak

* * *

**Kathryn**

_I remember the dew feeling like wet bugs crawling all over my body. He forgot to bring a blanket, he said he wasn't expecting me. I could see the night receding into dawn and the beauty of it would have fascinated me had he not been there. As I watched the sky turn from violet to a smoky blue, I could feel the metallic taste of fear tickling at my throat. My own sweat made perfect droplets on my lips as I stared straight ahead into the trees, listening to him fumble around. His breath tickled my ear, but I remember resisting the reflex to laugh. I cried instead._

"_Don't be afraid, it'll be over before you know it," his lips felt like sandpaper. "This might hurt, but that's natural."_

_There was nothing natural about it. We he finished he bunched my underwear in his bag; I think it was a backpack. He made me rinse off in the creek while he stood and watched. He helped me get dressed; he kissed my forehead, and gave me a shove in the direction of my grandparent's vacation house. I stumbled most of the way, wincing at times and trying to ignore the blood trickling down my legs at others. Despite the bitter cold, I was still sweating. I was clinching the strings on my pajama bottoms for support, but the waves of nausea were growing frequent. I wanted to stop and rest, but I wasn't supposed to be out in the first place and my grandparents would be getting up soon. I remember not wanting to get in trouble._

_I swear I heard the skin tear when I climbed through the window to the guest room that Lindsay, Robby, and I were sharing. Robby's feet had made their way up to Lindsay's chest and his tiny hands were sprawled out across both of her ankles. Lindsay was rubbing her nose and scratching her throat with her tongue in her sleep. I stood and watched them for a while. I drew back, almost as if I'd be slapped, and collapsed on the floor. I told myself it was okay to cry, I even rocked my body and hummed to myself, things my mother used to do when I was upset but too prideful to cry. Neither techniques worked, so I lifted myself into the bed and fell asleep with my head nudged between my sister and the pillow._

"Let's acknowledge Kate for sharing," Erin Douglas smiled and joined the five other women in the applause. I felt her strong hand squeeze my shoulder. "Any questions?"

"How old were you?" A woman named Kristen asked. She fiddled with her nametag and watched me shyly.

"I know I was ten because my baby brother was three."

"Your parents," A redhead named Bryce called out. Unlike Kristen, she had a commanding presence and deep, confident voice. She'd been here before. "They know? I mean, you said they were cops, how didn't they see?"

"I really don't know and trust me, that was my ammunition for the blame I was tossing at them, why _didn't _they see? I did such a damn good job at hiding it," I laugh bitterly. The tears are pounding at my eyes and I let them fall, something I had to learn to do. "Mom and Dad weren't there when it happened and my grandparents were a lot easier to fool. Since he…uh…well it was anal…it was easier to…uhh…clean and hide. I went out my way to keep it from them and I'm still hiding it."

"You…you…mean you haven't told them? You haven't said _anything_?" They only Asian woman present, Margaret, asks.

"The guilt would destroy them both! Their workdays revolved around easing their way into the minds of criminals. My Dad could unravel some of the best of them like a braid, he'd find that one strand that held it together and yank it out, and watch as every wall collapsed. He knew them so well it was almost sickening. My Mom was his partner before we were born and she was the one person that could pull him out and keep him at a safe distance from the line. She'd recognize the signs. Now they could see it at work, but they couldn't see their own little girl? I couldn't do that to them and I won't!"

"You're living your life based on an assumption Kathryn," Erin leaned forward in her chair and watched me. "You've made up what your parents would feel as a way of hiding things from them. We're going to break this down, is that okay?"

I just nod; she knows damn well I don't have a choice.

"Tell me what happened, without the assumptions."

"I…I uh…I went down to the creek by my grandparents vacation house during the night to read and I…I…a man had sex with me."

"No," Erin says gently. "He did not have sex with you, Kathryn, he raped you. You can't move forward without being able to admit that. He _raped_ you, can you say that?"

"He…I…I wasn't weak…"

"Of course you weren't Kate! You were ten-years-old and you managed to hobble home, clean yourself up, and for seventeen years pretend that nothing happened, a weak person couldn't possibly do that. Admitting the truth doesn't make you weak, Kathryn, it makes space for new possibilities in your life. Imagine how free you'd feel if that weight in your stomach was lifted. What would you do?"

"I don't know, it's been with me so long."

"Don't sellout, what would you do or how would you feel?"

"I'd…I'd just be."

"Exactamundo," she clapped her hands and grinned. Her brown hair swayed as she waved the huge hunk of yellow chalk she was holding. The room erupted with laughter and understanding. I felt the smile tug at my lips. "You could be you with no strings attached. Your life wouldn't revolve around who knows and who doesn't or how would they feel or would they feel?"

"I guess you could say I'm letting go of being a victim."

"Are you ready to try it again?"

"I…I can…yeah, I am."

"Say it then," Bryce smacked her thigh and nodded.

"I…I was raped."

I jumped at the sound of the applause, but I was so caught up how much difference something so small could make.

"I…I can't go further than that right now," I wrap my index finger around one of my curls. "I'm not ready yet."

"All right then, next week," Erin looked down her watch and gasped. "All right everybody, same time next week?"

I joined the chorus of "yeses" while I dried my eyes and searched for my coat.

"Need a ride home?" Bryce slung her windbreaker over her left arm and leaned against the coat table. "Maybe we can grab a bite."

"Can I take a rain check? Kevin's picking me up today and we're going to lunch."

"All right, give me a call some time then. You did really well today Kate."

I dealt Bryce another smile before making my way out of the room. The click of the door shutting marked the end of my eighth session and for the first time since I enrolled, I felt like I'd gone somewhere. Most of the women acknowledge that just being there marks some sort of progress, but I can't seem to wrap myself around that idea. I mean, yeah, getting me to even think about coming was like pulling teeth, but I still couldn't see how listening to a group of women divulge their experiences would ebb _my _pain. It some ways I still don't understand. I always knew I wasn't alone and I knew there had been women who'd gone through experiences far worse than my own, but in reality it's still difficult for me to connect with our similarities. None of those women came from a family of cops. I had a laundry list of people I could've told, but I treated the whole thing like an everyday piece of life. My childish mind figured that ignoring it would make it disappear. I could've been helped, I just chose to take everything on myself.

I'd still be _handling _everything if Kevin hadn't have put his foot down. He was the only person that knew and the only reason he did was because it came sputtering out when he pissed me off one night. I was in what he called "one of my moods", which translated into me ignoring his feeble attempts at coaxing me into sex. I was never one for surprises, since I could always tell when he wanted to lay inside me instead of beside me. I'd always treated sex as an obligation, even before we were married. I'd never slouched on feeding and screwing him because I never knew when the next woman would catch his eye. Despite that, there were some nights where I just couldn't bring myself to do it, especially when he worked up the nerve to ask for anal sex.

"Why not?" he'd asked. He was propped up on one of the couch's armrests, watching me. We'd be married for three months and together for much longer; I knew he could recognize the warning signs of my temper. What killed me was he was not attempting to back off. He reached down to caress my cheek, but I slapped his hand away. "Why are you so afraid to explore new things, Kathryn?"

"Touch me again and you'll wake up dead tomorrow."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked. I watched as he slid off the armrest. He stood at his full height, his eyes beating on me. "Why are you so upset?"

"Leave it alone, Kevin," I sit up and point my finger at him. I'm seething, but my tone remains quiet. "Leave _me_ alone."

"Oh, no," he plops onto the cushion next to me and reaches for my hand, but decides against it and returns his own back to his lap. "Something's going on with you…"

"So something has to be wrong with me because I'm not in the mood for sex, is that what you're saying? I must be crazy because I'm not in the mood?"

"No, that's not what I mean. It's like you've erected this wall up around our sex life and every time I try to climb it--you just push me away. Part of marriage is to being able to learn from and with each other. There are so many things I haven't done that I only want to do with you--"

"Why?" I interrupt. "Because I'm convenient?"

"No, because I feel safe with you," he looked me up and down. "Obviously that feeling isn't mutual."

"I do feel safe with you."

"Then what the hell is it?" he pleaded. "Why won't you try this one new thing with me?"

"Maybe because it isn't new!"

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not _trying_ to say a damn thing. Do you honestly think you're the first man to think anal?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he ran his fingers through his brown hair. He sighed as he watched me. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"It wasn't necessary."

"Wasn't necessary?" he swallowed and shifted his eyes to his hands. "Who was he?"

"I don't know."

"How the hell do you not know!"

"Like this, 'I don't know'."

"You can do it with a complete stranger, but you can't bring yourself to do it with me? You keep playing these games with me and I'm getting sick of tired of having to beg you for pieces of your life. You keep jerking me around and shutting me out with those damned eyes of yours. I really can't handle this, I can't handle you not trusting me."

I let him finish, taking in his every word. His points were valid. We shared many intimate moments during our relationship, but when things got to heavy for my own comfort--I'd hide. I was so afraid that one day I'd feel too comfortable and slip. I was so afraid that Kevin would shy away from me if he knew. I didn't want to be handled with care. I didn't want his pity and I didn't want to hear that alpha male revenge crap. I didn't want to be watched closely and I sure as hell didn't want to be analyzed. Despite all of that, he was really pissing me off. I could feel the anger bubbling in my throat and the heat rising on my ears.

"Did you ever consider that it wasn't exactly my choice?"

His features had softened dramatically, "You…you were raped?"

"What the hell else would you call it?"

"When? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I was ten. It happened at my grandparent's vacation house upstate in Dundee. My parents don't even know," I found myself hugging my knees up to my chest and resting my head sideways on them. "I just figured it would ruin everything."

"Keeping it a secret is what almost ruined everything," he said softly. He took my hand and to his surprise I let him touch me. "I'm glad you told me, Kate."

"So am I."

"Katie why didn't you tell them?"

"Who?"

"Your parents, they had…uh…have a right to know."

"Right? What rights are we talking about here?"

"You don't blame them, do you?"

"No," I wiggled a bit, not making eye contact. "Well not really."

"They didn't know…"

"They should've," I yelled louder than I intended to. Kevin drew back, startled. I couldn't control myself anymore. His arms were around me before I should think to push them away. I felt weightless as I caved into his chest, sobbing and shaking violently. "Why didn't they see, Kevin? Why didn't they just help me?"

"Let it out," he whispered into my hair. "Just get it out."

"Why didn't anybody just help me?"

I know my actions scared him, but he didn't leave my side. There was the silence. My mouth hung open, but sound refused to come. My heart broke into tiny pieces that rose up, plugging my throat, allowing only air to pass through. I tried again when the flashbacks came, but all I could do was scratch at my throat, drawing blood instead of sound. The images ran through my mind until my head ached. Searing hot tears made their way down my hand onto Kevin's starched white shirt. He said nothing the whole time, rocking me back and forth like a colicky baby. Lucky for the both of us, Lillian was spending the night with my parents, so when I finally screamed Kevin only heard.

Kevin never missed a beat. He'd hold me at night when the flashbacks poured over me and wait for the familiar objects of my bedroom to reappear. He wasn't overly gentle, but he was there. He helped me to the shower and turn on the hot water. Some nights he'd hold my hair away from my face while I puked my guts into the toilet. He begged, he bribed, pushed, and fought for me to get help. It wasn't until three months ago that he succeeded. I don't know if I'm cured, the cynical part of me says I can't be, but I have to admit group therapy has alleviated some of the stress in out marriage.

* * *

"What do you want to grab? I was thinking we could stop by Lindsay's place?" Kevin asks as soon as I shut the car door. He never asks about my sessions. He says he wants me to be in control of my healing and whenever I was ready, I could tell him. 

"Don't you know that distance strengthens bonds?"

"Had enough of your baby sister?"

"You should know how the three of us operate by now. If we see too much of each other, somebody will end up floating in the east river."

"How did your night with the girls go?" Kevin asked, making a quick left at a corner.

"The girls? Robby was there," I punched his arm playfully. "Shut up."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me. My kid brother's just as manly as you are."

"I don't understand how he can spend hours listening to you and Lindsay chit chat without either drinking himself unconscious or stuffing his face with buffalo wings to reestablish his manhood," when he caught my death glare, he grinned. "No offense."

"Don't knock Robby because he's got experience dealing with strong woman. Besides, I don't duck and cover while you and your friends howl at the television like wolves during Monday night football."

"Yeah, that's because you're too busy cussing out the Jets for getting their asses tossed towards them."

"You must really like the couch."

"Did I hit a nerve?" he poked his lip out. He reached out to stroke my cheek and just as he was about to kiss me, the world came crashing back down on us.

"I don't know where the fuck _you _come from but in America green means go," an angry soccer mom shouted from the minivan behind us.

"You just can't seem to keep it together when it comes to women," I laughed when the woman speed around us and flipped Kevin the bird.

"You know," he said, glancing down at the digital clock on the dashboard. "We don't exactly have to go to lunch."

"Really?"

"Yup, we can just go on home…"

"What are you thinking?"

"Thoughts."

"Kevin I swear…"

"Do you trust me Kathryn?"

"Kathryn?"

"Do you trust me, _Kate_?"

"With my life."

"Then just go with the flow."

"The flow, huh? Alrighty then."

* * *

As soon as the door opened a wave of lavender tickled out into the hallway and made its way into my nose. Kevin ushered me inside, shut the door, took my purse from my shoulders, and then got down on his knees and took off my shoes. 

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"I had some say in it," he winked at me, causing me to giggle. He could never actually wink, the eye he wasn't winking with would close slightly. "And don't laugh at the way I wink, lady."

He'd run a bath for me, lit candles, and had incense burning through out the living room and hallway. I watched him slide his hands up my skirt, pull my underwear down to my thighs and toss them casually on the floor. My skirt joined my underwear and so did my sweater. He held out his hand, which I accepted with a questioning smile, and led me down the hall to the bathroom. He didn't say a word as he helped me into the steaming, fragrant water. He kissed my forehead, stood up and left, softly shutting the door behind him. I fell in love with him all over again.

When he came back thirty minutes later he was holding a towel and my robe. He hung both items on the rack behind the door. I smiled when he kissed my forehead for the second time. He leaned over the side of the tub and whispered against my cheek, "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Jazz playing softly on the stereo, plates containing the remains of homemade garlic pasta, the soft leather of the sofa against our fully clothed bodies as we lay in a warm embrace. I felt comfortable. I stretched out against him and laid my head on his chest.

"How'd you know I was going to need all this?"

"I didn't," he traced my jaw with his ring finger. The coolness of the metal sent chills down my face. "I just figured you could use something to relax you."

"You know just what a woman needs to unwind, you sure you haven't been letting Robby school you?"

"Positive."

"You know, you've got perfect timing…"

"I do, do I?"

I nod, "I admitted it today."

"Admitted what?"

"In group, I admitted I'd been raped."

I could feel the smile spreading across his face, "That's wonderful Kate! I…wow…I'm glad you've finally gotten to a place where you can say that. I'm so proud of you."

"I haven't thanked you…"

"Don't even begin to insult me."

"I'm serious Kevin," I sat up and leaned my weight on his arm. "I really don't know if this will help me in the long run, but it's sure as hell is helping me now. If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be stuck in denial. I'm not great with being sentimental, but I just want you to know that I really appreciate you for pushing me, if even I don't always show it."

"You're very welcome," he leaned up and placed a soft kiss on my lips. He was about to open his mouth to say something, but his cell phone vibrating on the kitchen table forced him to shut his mouth. I listened to him handle whatever and whoever it was. He appeared again, tossing his phone between hands. "I've got to go, they want me in surgery. I love you and I'll always be here to support you, the best way I know how."

"I love you to. You'd better get going."

"Hey, I know I said I'd leave your healing up to you and all, but after a breakthrough like this, maybe you shouldn't be alone. You could try heading over to your parent's place, I know they're home."

"I don't know…"

"I won't force you, but it's a good idea. I just want you to feel safe."

"Okay, okay," I walked over to the phone that made its home on the wall. "I'll go."

"That's my girl," he leaned in and kissed my lips quickly before reaching for the door. "I love you. I'll snatch Lilly up from my parent's place if I have time, but if things get hectic--which they probably will--you might have to go and grab her yourself."

"Okay, now get out of here."

"Hello?" came a deep, groggy voice…at noon?

"Dad? You were still in bed?"

"No, Kate, it's Robby. I think Dad went out to grab some groceries, but he should be back in a sec," he paused a second. "Do I really sound _that _old?"

"Only when you wake up. Why are you getting up so late anyway?"

"Please don't ask," he sighed. I heard what sounded like 'fuck' in the background. "Look Sis, I gotta run, need me to relay a message to Big Papa?"

"Just tell…uh…Big Papa…that I'm coming on over."

"Will do. Talk to you later."

Great, alone time with my father, what greater joy could be created in my life?

* * *

A/N: So yeah, it's about that time. I'm on the fence with this chapter and I short of feel like changing it. Kate's rape separates her from her siblings and gives her a vulnerability. Robby didn't get to personal, Lindsay got into some things but wasn't as open, and Kate jumped head first into what shaped her life. I don't know if that worked, but I really wanted to give her something that really shaped her as a person and how she interacts with the world, something that gives her depth. 

Yeah, just let me know how it came across to y'all.


End file.
